


Love/Hate

by junko



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a sunny day in Ergastulum and Worick's usual clients are canceling right and left.  When Nic gets them take out for a spontaneous rooftop picnic, things don't go exactly as planned....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love/Hate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dope/gifts).



> NOTE: A gift for dope. Not part of the "Tag, You're It" series. 
> 
> Takes place somewhere after Veronica, but before Alex.

It was one of those rare October days in Ergastulum when the sun shone bright, the air felt cool and crisp, and the Benriya had nothing to do. Worick put down the phone’s receiver with a sigh. That was the third client to cancel today. Apparently, the weather was far too nice to spend it fucking a rent boy. 

Worick tried not to feel bummed, but he’d been looking forward to his time with Chrissy. She liked shopping almost more than sex, and Worick usually ended up with something cute to take home.

Plus, he’d worked himself up into the mood. Now he was just horny and frustrated.

Nic’s fingers tapped the desk top. When Worick looked up, he signed: _That was another no-show, wasn’t it_?

Propping his elbows on the desk, Worick rested his face in his open palms dejectedly. The weather mocked him by fluttering the curtains, bringing in a fresh, cool breeze. “I don’t know how it is I’m not at least as pretty as the sunshine.”

Nic frowned at him. _You’re seriously jealous of the weather? You need help._

“Shut up,” Worick grumbled. “You’re not the one getting stood up for goddamn picnics and sunbathing.”

As Worick hunted around the desk drawer for his pack of smokes, Nic gave him a long, dubious glare. Finally, he signed. _Take your smoke break on the roof. I’ll meet you there in ten._

Finding his pack, Worick shook out a cigarette and lit up. He blew out a long stream of smoke and slumped back in the chair. “I’m not going to enjoy the fucking sun.”

 _Yes, you are, you sad git_ , Nic said. Pushing the window further open, he slipped through. Before heading out, he turned to sign, _Just do as I say._

“Bite me,” Worick grumbled, but he was already pushing himself up out of his chair to head towards the roof access.

#

Nic came bounding back over the rooftops no more fifteen minutes later, carrying take out. Worick had been having a hell of a time hanging on to his foul mood. The weather was just too damn perfect. The sky was that intense blue only found in October and the clouds drifting by mimicked some picture postcard of what skies were supposed to look like. From the roof, the city had a certain charm. But, seeing Nic leaping easily through the air made Worick put on his grumpy face and say, “I hate you.”

Tossing the plastic take out at Worick with that unnerving precision, Nic made a skidding landing and signed: _Shut up and enjoy your fucking lunch._

That made Worick laugh. Settling down on the flat, tar paper roof, he peered into the containers. Spotting fried chicken, he exclaimed, “I love you!”

 _Well, which is it?_ Nic asked. Sitting tailor fashion across from Worick, he reached for his own container. _Love me or hate me_?

“Both,” Worick said. The words came out unintentionally serious. Even though there was no way Nic could have heard the tone, Nic’s eyes sought out Worick’s and held them. They stared intensely at each other for several heartbeats, until Worick broke their gaze and bit into the chicken.

They ate the chicken in silence for a while. Nic pretended to find a passing flock of geese interesting, but Worick waited tensely. He shouldn’t have been so honest. Honesty was never good for any relationship.

“ **i hAtE YOu sOMetImEs, tOo**.”

Worick almost blurted, ‘What the fuck have you got to hate me for?” After all, hadn’t he been peddling his ass this whole time to try to make things work out for them? Nic should be fucking grateful, god damn it. Especially since Worick had stuck with him, even though Nic had murdered his family. But he knew. “What do you want me to do about it, huh? Someone has to own you. You want me to sell your contract to someone else? Tell me who, and I’ll do it.”

Nic’s face went dark. He dropped the chicken into the container in his lap and greasy fingers briskly signed: _I told you years ago that you could dump me at the Guild._

Worick’s gut twisted at the thought. He hated that Gina Paulklee and he wasn’t even sure why--though maybe it was the way he was nothing to them, nothing beyond “Mr. Normal.” And they always looked at him the way Nic was doing right now, like he was some kind of twisted slave owner. 

But it was more than that. 

Worick had never felt more alone in his life, those long, horrible weeks Nic was sent off to be tested and categorized by them, ‘tagged,’ he guessed they called it. Whatever. It’d sucked. 

“And I told you that’s never going to happen,” Worick said. “You couldn’t live by their rules anyway. You think Gina’d let you overdose like you do? You hate being with me so much? You really think having to do their bidding would be better? I don’t issue orders. Ever.”

Nic chuckled in that broken way he had. “ **eXCepT whEn yOU Do**.”

That was a low blow. The chicken soured in Worick’s stomach. He tossed the box aside angrily. “Yeah? Well, what if I order you to shut up about it?”

“ **ThEn i gUEss i’D HaVE tO ObEy mY MAstEr, wOUldN’t I, Master wALlACe**?”

That name was like a hot stab straight into Worick’s eye socket. With a strangled cry, he launched himself at Nic. His fists were up, ready to strike. But, god damn Tag was too fast. Worick never connected. Instead, somehow, he ended up flat on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs. Nic straddled him, those fucking tags swinging in front of Worick’s nose. Hands closed tightly on his wrists, crushingly strong. “Why don’t you fucking do it, Nic? Why don’t you finish the job! Take out the last of the Arcangelos. Why stop with my eye? Take everything! Rip out my fucking heart.”

“ **i dIDn’T tAkE yOUr eYe, yOU sHIt,”** Nic snarled, **“yOUr fUCkinG fAtHeR dID. yOU’rE a fUCkinG liAR iF yOU sAY yOu DidN’t wANt hIM tO dIE.** ”

Maybe because he knew Nic couldn’t hear it, Worick released a long, pained groan. His feelings about his father were fucked up, he knew that, but it didn’t stop the way his whole body flushed with a mix of shame and… longing--a sick desire for approval from a man who gave him nothing but pain. “Yeah, maybe I did, but you tell me to my face that you’re not angry that I took your father from you! He was a sicker fucker than mine. Mine at least pretended, sometimes, that I…” No, he really hadn’t. “Fuck you, anyway. You didn’t have to kill my step-mother! My half brother!”

“ **tHeY dIDn’T lOVe yOU**.”

“What?”

Nic pushed off him suddenly. Standing up, he paced back and forth like a caged animal. Then, with shocking violence, Nic slammed his fist into the brick chimney--hard enough to send chips of stone flying. 

Not moving from the ground, except to prop himself up on his elbows, Worick held his breath. Had he really said that? What the fuck did it mean, ‘love,’ when it came from Nicolas Brown? “Are you saying you killed my family because you were jealous?”

 _I killed them to protect you._ Nic’s face was deeply pained, his hands shook, making it hard to understand the words that spilled out. _Mostly. I… I couldn’t stop once I started. I knew if I let anyone live… they’d… tear us apart. Put me down. It was… selfish. That’s why I… but you stopped me. Why did you stop me from killing myself?_

Worick could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheek. He sat up now, one hand cupping his ruined eye. “Because… yeah, I hate you, but I love you, too. I didn’t want to lose you, too. It didn’t seem fair. You’re the only person I’ve ever really… Fuck, Nic. You’re like the other half of my soul. I couldn’t imagine living without you.”

_But I’m a monster._

“Not to me. Never to me,” Worick said softly. Standing up, he let his hand drop from his eye. It’d stopped aching, anyway. “Besides, I wanted them dead. All of them. I wanted them to suffer every fucking bit of pain you dealt out.” It was true, Worick realized, his stomach dropping and twisting again. He glanced at Nic, feeling emptied, stricken. “Fuck. I’m a monster, too.” Then, his shoulders slumped as he felt the fight leave him. He tried to smile. “Look at us. Two fucking monsters, eh? I guess that’s why we stick together.”

Nic stood by the chipped chimney, staring at him for a long time. He looked as shattered as the masonry. Then, his mouth quirked up in a grin. He pointed at Worick’s elbow. _And you have chicken stuck to your shirt._

“What? Goddamn it.” It must have gotten stuck there when they were fighting. 

Suddenly Nic was there, helping him wipe off the greasy smear. The spikes of Nic’s hair just under Worick’s nose smelled of that peculiar Twilight scent--a tangy spiciness with a metallic undertone, like molten steel. Despite what he sometimes said, it had always smelled good to Worick. So, when Nic lifted his head to check in on him, Worick wanted to taste it. 

Leaning in, he kissed Nic.

Nic’s body went instantly rigid. He was so still, in fact, that Worick thought maybe he’d made a really big mistake. Just when Worick was about to back away slowly, Nic returned the kiss… fiercely. So hard, in fact, that Worick stumbled back. His heel must have caught on something, because he fell.

Worick thought, ‘shit, I’m going to bang my head, and a concussion is such a mood killer…’ but somehow, mid-fall, Nic’s arms grabbed Worick’s waist, and they flew--no, twisted in the air--and they landed on the ground with Nic on the bottom, his body absorbing the impact. Still locked in a kind of kiss, their teeth banged, lip cut, and, like some kind of giant metaphor for their whole lives, everything suddenly tasted of blood.

And Nic never stopped. 

He never paused to take a breath and, instead, snaked his hands up under Worick’s jacket and shirt. Like some kind of giant housecat, Nic acted like the fall was all part of the seduction plan. It took Worick a little time to recover, and just after he’d caught his breath and figured out what to do with his own hands, Nic rolled them over again to be on top.

At least once he was on his back, Worick knew what to do. Especially when Nic straddled him again and broke their kiss to sit up a little. Nic looked like he wanted to say something, but Worick reached up to loosen the buttons of Nic’s shirt and said, “I always have condoms and lube on me, don’t worry.”

Nic looked a little surprised and then gave Worick a crooked smile. ‘ **i wAS gOInG tO aSK if yOU wERe hUrT, bUT thAT’s GooD tO kNOw**.’ 

Worick helped Nic out of his jacket and shirt. Damn. He was beautiful, of course, but those scars, so many of them. Most of them Worick knew. Thanks to his perfect memory, he could visualize each moment. He ran a fingertip over the one that grazed Nic’s ribcage--it was ugly and as nasty as the battle had been, but it could have healed better if Nic wasn’t so fucking stubborn and would have let Theo do the stitches, but it was all, ‘no, it’s just a fleshwound, not worth the trouble.’

Nic grabbed Worick’s hand and brought it to his lips. When he’d captured Worick’s attention, he signed, _I know I’m ugly, but do you have to frown at me like that?_

Aw, see, there it was again. Nic never thought he was worth anything. “I’m not frowning because I don’t like what I see, I’m frowning because of all this,” he pointed out a few of the scars, “We’ve been through so much shit together. It makes me sad. You deserve some happiness. It’s all I ever wanted to buy for you, you know--a moment of happiness.”

A myriad of emotions flitted over Nic’s usually stoic face and then suddenly Worick found himself caught up in a passionate kiss again. Nic’s fingers twined in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Worick’s own hands were captured between them, pressed against the rock-hard planes of Nic’s chest. 

Nic’s kisses were a lot like he was: honest, a bit dorky, and really fucking intense.

Worick let himself be taken in by the sensations: the weight of Nic’s lean body on top of his, that tangy smell of him, the taste of chicken on his lips, and the untamed, animalistic passion that bruised and plundered Worick’s mouth. He’d been horny before, with all the unspent frustration, and now Worick felt his body responding to Nic’s heat. His cock was pressed up hard in the confines of his jeans and his body flushed as his breath shallowed.

His fingers found their way to Nic’s exposed nipples. 

At the first tweak, Nic nearly jumped to his feet. He was up on his knees, his pale chest flushed from passion, and he stared at his nipple and back at Worick. Worick could see Nic’s growing bulge at his crotch and so it made him laugh when Nic frantically signed: _What the hell was that?_

“I told you they were for foreplay.” Finding his own under his untucked shirt, Worick gave himself a tug. “Oh, yeah, feels good, right?”

Nic shook his head. _More than good. Almost too good._

“Oh, well we should do more of that, shouldn’t we?” Worick laughed, propping himself up enough so that he could reach Nic’s nipples with his mouth. He started to stick out his tongue to flick the erect bud, but stopped to glance up. “Do not crush me, okay? That’s kind of an order, because, trust me, your instinct is going to be to grab my head. You can pull my hair, but don’t actually crush my brains out of my skull, okay? That rule is also going to apply when I go down on you.”

Nic swallowed hard and his eyes were bright, like he was just a little bit terrified of this whole thing, but nodded solemnly. “ **i wOUld nEVeR hURt yOU.** ”

They both knew that was kind of a lie. But, Worick trusted Nic, despite it. Hell, Nic was the only guy Worick had ever trusted with his life. 

And, it was turning out, the first person Worick had ever had sex with that he wasn’t expecting to pay him.

Ever.

As his tongue flicked out and Nic made a terrifying loud groaning, moaning noise, Worick thought about the fact that he’d never done this sort of thing with anyone he loved before. 

Nic grabbed his shoulder, almost too tightly, but then seem to remember himself. His other hand took a fistful of Worick’s ponytail, like he was clinging on for dear life as Worick sucked and teased with mouth and a hint of teeth. Even though he needed one hand to keep himself propped up, Worick’s other blindly and automatically found Nic’s fly and worked loose button and zipper. 

As he continued to play with Nic’s nipples with his mouth, Worick’s hand eased Nic’s hardening cock out of his jeans. Worick tugged down the jeans’ fabric until it was down as far as it could go with Nic’s spread legs. It was a bit awkward, with Nic kneeling and Worick pressed in close enough to lick and suck nipples, but he was still able to run his hand along the length of Nic’s cock, feather-light strokes and teasing tugs.

If it wasn’t so hot, it would be almost embarrassing the way Nic made so much noise. He couldn’t hear himself, of course, but the whole neighborhood probably could, especially with him yowling on the rooftop. Yet, it was gratifying to know that it was all unconscious and natural and entirely due to Worick’s skill.

 _The best lay you’ll get in this neighborhood_ , Worick thought to himself proudly. _And don’t you forget it_.

In fact, it would be nice to move on to the next act, but Nic’s ironclad grip on his hair wasn’t letting him move. Besides, it’d be better if Nic would stand up or lay down or something so they could do this properly. But, he couldn’t figure out how to get Nic’s attention. A hard jerk down south would only seem like more foreplay, and a bite on the nipple might get Worick killed despite the ‘order.’

So, Worick stopped with all his teasing and blew a raspberry on Nic’s chest.

It was curious enough of a thing to have done that Nic let go and glance down at him. 

“If you’d shift your ass, we could have even more fun,” Worick grinned. Nic look confused, but let Worick guide him with gentle pushes until he lay back on the asphalt roof. Worick helped him out of his boots and got the jeans the rest of the way off. Worick sat up long enough to shrug out of his jacket and pull one of the condoms from it. “I’ve got an awesome trick I can do with this,” Worick smiled, ripping open the package. “I can roll it on with my mouth. And lots of tongue. So much tongue. You’re going to love it.”

Nic made an incoherent sound that Worick took as deep pleasure at the idea.

When he was nearly ready, Worick caught Nic’s gaze. “Remember not to kill me.”

Nic groaned, but he nodded seriously. 

Getting into position, Worick gave Nic a lascivious, seductive smile. Once again, Nic had that adorable, vaguely terrified look in his eye, just before Worick’s mouth closed over the tip of his cock. As Worick worked his mouth and the condom further down, Nic’s knees came up and he tightened his abs until he was nearly sitting up. Fingers closed around Worick’s hair, and Nic watched with that fascinated/horrified/utterly-turned-on-so-hard-he-seemed-to-be-out-of-breath expression. Other guys closed their eyes and tilted their heads back, but it made sense Nic wouldn’t. 

Worick went as far down as he could, comfortably. Of course, he could deep-throat, but it wasn’t how he wanted to start. That was a better big-finish item. So, he worked the condom the rest of the way down by moving his mouth along the side of Nic’s cock, unrolling with little flicks of his tongue--and helping with his fingers, because it was never as smooth an operation as it ought to be. 

Once it was on, Worick got up on all fours, so he could get his own aching cock out into the open and have a better angle to work on Nic. Reaching around blindly, he found his jacket pocket and dug out the lube. 

He got his own pants down to his knees and started preparing himself. As he slid his fingers into his own hole, Worick wondered if he was insane. Nic was monster strong, no joke. And, being honest, completely skill-less in the art of love. As a professional, Worick should just take the lead in all of it.

But he didn’t want to be a professional right now. 

Plus… a secret part of Worick wanted to be fucked hard. Punishingly hard.

So, he didn’t do the full blowjob he normally would. As soon as he felt he’d gotten enough lube in, he let his mouth fall from Nic’s cock. Nic made a strangled, frustrated noise, but then his eyes widened in surprise as Worick took hold of Nic’s cock and shifted so he could sit up to work it inside himself. Nic’s hands instantly went around Worick’s hips to help steady him, as he slowly pushed himself down, easing himself wider. Oh. Oh, fucking god, so tight. It’d been too long since Worick had let anyone fuck him, but it felt so… right. Especially when he felt himself so spread wide that Nic was full-in, up to the hilt.

“Give it to me,” Worick insisted, as he set a punishing pace right away. “Fuck me hard.”

Worick had worried that Nic might hesitate, afraid to hurt him, but he didn’t. Not one bit. It was like he knew what Worick wanted. Like he understood that this was partly punishment, partly absolution. Nic’s hands clutched at Worick’s cock, too, not with skill, but with a rawness that was achingly truthful, real.

They pounded together. Nic making those crazy noises, and Worick throwing back his head to do the same. Letting it all out. All the past pain. All the passion. All the… love. 

Rocking hard, breathing hard, Worick felt himself rising with each painfully pleasuring thrust. Nic was sinfully hard on him… in him. Each thrust was like, ‘fuck you,’ then ‘fuck, I love you,’ back to ‘fuck you.’

Worick could feel himself building, his balls growing tight, that telltale tingle in his toes, until: “Oh god, Nic, I’m gonna come.” 

Nic grunted, face screwing up, but holding out wasn't an option any longer. The words had hardly left Worick's lips before he was coming, a thick stream shooting out, covering his hand, his… shirt. Fuck! He’d never remembered to take off his shirt! He’d have grumbled more about it, but Nic was still riding him, at least until his fingers dug deep into Worick's hips, his eyes finally fluttered closed, and he made a tiny noise, like a mewl. 

Even over the pulse racing in his head, Worick's mind went, 'Oh, that was so adorable.' Nic’s coming noise was super-cute!

With a small groan of discomfort, Worick eased himself off enough to sprawl on top of Nic’s heaving chest and kiss Nic’s panting mouth. Laying his head in the crook of Nic’s arm, Worick sighed, “I kind of hate you, but I love you more.”

Nic couldn’t have heard him with his face turned away, but Nic poked him and signed, _I love you._

Huh. Worick grabbed Nic’s fingers and gave them a sucking kiss. “Yeah, I know,” Worick said, lifting his head so Nic could see. “But my ass is cold and full of grit. But, if you carry me to the shower, I bet I could make you make that cute noise again.”

 _What noise_?

Worick touched Nic’s nose with his finger, playfully. “You’ll never know, will you?’

Teeth snapped after the offending digit, missing it by a mile so it had to be deliberate. Then Nic signed, _Did I say I love you? I lied. I meant I hate you._

Which made Worick flop onto his back and laugh, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun. It'd turned out to be a good day after all.


End file.
